


Private Moments

by Kat2107



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gabriel just wanted a kiss before going back to work, M/M, Porn, So did Jack tbh, bathroom porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 18:09:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12138180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat2107/pseuds/Kat2107
Summary: “I need this shirt,” he wheezes past the grip on this throat and is rewarded with a growl.“You’ll deal.”





	Private Moments

**Author's Note:**

> Someone posted [this gif](https://twitter.com/txo8oxt/status/836996620113719296) to a certain discord and... the rest is history.

He needs just a moment of silence. 

A minute to step away from the cacophony of voices, the string quartet and all the wants of people that see in him the Strike Commander, quasi superhuman figurehead and no longer…

The toilet door falls closed behind him. He deliberately chose the one farthest from the party. 

Blessed silence. 

They don’t care that there is a man out there trying to free hostages from a terrorist group, wading through the blood drenched jungle while they want a picture taken with famous Jack Morrison. He splashes ice cold water on his face and then leaves his hands where they create a dark cavern for him to hide and think of…

He’s tired, been waiting for news through the previous night, and likely it’s that worry that threw him off enough to not notice the other presence in the room. 

He hears the steps of heavy rubber soles and starts to turn- 

Too late. 

A heavy hand curls around his neck and slams him back against the sink. Deodorant bottles, travel toothbrushes, little flasks of lotion rattling, crashing to the marble floor. They set out those amenities for the esteemed guests of the New York Hilton. Jack hopes the aftershave contains alcohol. He’s unarmed. 

And then he finds a pair of brown eyes in the mirror, a cheekbone cut open with the surrounding skin black and blue. Knuckles scuffed and a cut lip. 

There is one second of blazing anger as those bruised hands tear open his dress shirt but it evaporates with the smell. Dirt, sweat, so much blood. 

Pain. 

“I need this shirt,” he wheezes past the grip on this throat and is rewarded with a growl. 

“You’ll deal.”

Gabriel pushes him forward, Jack’s hands on the sink, greedily pawing past the fabric to reach skin. 

They moan in shared relief when his hand curves around Jack’s chest, grazing a nipple almost like an afterthought that sends an electric current through Jack’s body. 

“I need-”

“Yes,” Jack interrupts, before Gabe can finish. 

He reaches down already, to at least save the buttons on his pants and the uniform jacket. 

Forget the shirt, he’ll cover that up. 

The body behind him vanishes. Jack hears him barricading the door. Then the sound of heavy armor dropping and he’s back. Hand on Jack’s throat, reaching past him for the lotion. 

Jack catches Gabriel’s surprised look in the mirror, his appreciative shrug. He wants to laugh at the situational humor. 

He wants to scream at the injustice of the horrors in Gabriel’s eyes. 

“Did you just infiltrate a UN-“

“Shhhh…” 

Two fingers slide into him. Not gentle. 

Nowhere close to gentle. He rocks back into it with a low moan. 

“Yeah, you fucking missed me.”

“Fuck, Gabe..”

Jack drops the weight of his neck into the hand holding his air supply hostage, surrenders to the hungry man behind him. His hips push back into the intrusion as he closes his eyes. 

He doesn’t need them to know the hunger eating Gabriel up. 

“I will.”

Someone tries to open the door.

The handle rattles just as Gabe shoves a third finger up Jack’s ass with a grin like the maniac he is, rumbling softly into Jack’s ear. “Deter them.”

Jack makes something up about a phone call. Emergency. He’ll be right out. 

“No, you won’t,” Gabe laughs and fumbles open his own pants to pull out his weeping cock. 

Jack opens his eyes and finds the haunted face in the mirror, twists his head to press a kiss to to the hand around his neck. About as much as he can. 

“I love you,” he whispers and hisses as Gabe pushes in. 

Pain, pleasure. Definitely pleasure. 

Fuck, two weeks is too long. 

Gabe presses into him with the relentless patience of a knife sliding between a man’s ribs, to his heart, and there is nothing left for Jack to do but gasp for breath and push back into the movements, lean into the hands.

On his chest, his neck, then his mouth to keep him silent while Gabe fucks him with the desperation of a drowning man. 

 

~

 

He finds two of his buttons. Sews them back on with one of those little sewing kits that hotels stock in the bathroom. The rest can be covered by the jacket. 

Except the wrinkles. 

One glance at his watch. It’s just late enough that he can appear a little tipsy. 

The hickey? Same concealer that he hides the sleepless nights under his eyes with. 

Hair? Impeccable. Smile? False. 

No, that’s wrong. Too honest. Too real.

Jack’s fingers touch the hidden bruise on his neck just as he clenches his ass and winces. 

He’ll come home and Gabe will still be debriefing. Sitting with the wounded. Counting the dead. 

And then he’ll come to Jack. 

Like he always does. 

_ Fucking mad man _ . 

He grins into the mirror, then up to the vent that is technically too small to fit Gabriel Reyes. 

“Fucking mad man,” he whispers and opens the door.

  
  
  



End file.
